


31 Days of Christmas

by Kairoua



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Hellboy (Movies 2004-2008), House M.D., Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 31 days of christmas, Australian slangs, Bets, Crack-ish, Cute, Dialogue Heavy, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, Multiple Fandoms, Multiple Pairings, Non-Explicit Sex, Proposals, Time Travel, Worship the jolly man in red, christmas fics, confusion on how christmas works, everybody is tired, i'll add tags as i go, lots of kisses, mistletoe kisses, random wake up calls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27837592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairoua/pseuds/Kairoua
Summary: Different pairings. One common theme. 31 days of christmas fluff, smut and all the inbetweens. I'll add tags, pairings and fandoms as I go. Have fun!(These aren't chockfull of christmas themes but the subteleties are there. I might get a bit stupid with it in some chapters)
Relationships: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad/Desmond Miles, Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Desmond Miles, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Hellboy/John Myers, Robert Chase/Greg House
Kudos: 46





	1. Hellboy x John Myers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hellboy wants John to stay for Christmas. Creates a bit of trouble. He makes it up to him.

“What do you usually get up to this time of year?” John shrugged his shoulders slightly, adjusting his tie in the mirror slightly before turning to his charge. 

“Depends. Before the Bureau I sat at home and watched Christmas movies with some food that I cooked up.” Hellboy snorted, his tail flicking lazily as he kept his eyes trained on the young agent.

“That’s sad boy scout. You could have at least gone to a bar or something, maybe hook up with some chick.” John rolled his eyes, picking up the empty plates to put them back on the food cart, the lack of paperwork allowing him to actually relax and hang out for a little bit for once. 

“Well that wouldn’t actually work since I’m gay. But I usually just do the paperwork that you oh so generously make for me by getting caught in the media.” The rest of the sentence had not registered for Hellboy, his mind stubbornly stuck on the fact that John, the adorable twink that practically babysat him was, in fact, gay. 

The news was making circles in his mind, fantasies old and new suddenly coming to the surface as the subject of them rambled on about something or other while packing up, “…So I’ll be gone for a couple of weeks. Ryan’s gonna drop off your meals so please be nice to him.” A sneer made its way onto Hellboy’s face, his tail flicking into the metal frame of his truck bed in agitation.

“What? Why are you leaving me?” John huffed, cocking his hip to the side (in a very distracting way mind you) as he fixed an unimpressed look on the demon.

“Really Red? Fine. Manning said that since I’ve done such an amazing job with looking after you that I can take some time off for a couple weeks during Christmas.” The red demon rolled his eyes, adamantly pushing his inappropriate thoughts to the side so he could focus on the topic at hand. 

“Mannings didn’t say that.” Boyscout chuckled, shrugging noncommittally as he made his way toward the vault door.

“You wouldn’t know, you didn’t talk to him. But I’ll be gone after today so make sure to ask for whatever it is you want before I leave.” Hellboy made a vague noise of understanding, glaring at the wall across from him like a child as his liaison left with the breakfast cart. 

He could not let this happen. What would John even do by himself? Wallow in his lonely apartment? Yeah right, like Hellboy would let that happen. An almost smug grin made its way across Hellboy’s face, the plan brewing in the back of his head making the grin grow wider until he looked almost maniacal with it. 

~bleh~bleh~bleh~

John was having the worst day so far. When he was on his way to bring lunch to Red’s room the wheel on the cart had crapped out and sent him toppling, the plates crashing along the floor and making a huge mess. When he went to change clothes, he found that he had somehow forgotten to bring his clean laundry in and so would either have to spend his day in sticky, syrup smelling clothes of crusty, blood splattered ones. (He decided to take his chances with the former set) Then Red had decided to break out for no apparent reason, sending John, Liz and a couple others off to bring him back in. 

They ended up coming back empty handed after several hours of searching, all of them not so quietly discussing what excuse to give Manning when he inevitably lost his shit at them. When they made it to the conference room that Manning was last in Hellboy was just sitting there, smug grin plastered on his face as the head of the bureau glared at the back of his head.

“Damn boy scout. What happened to you?” John felt the inexplicable need to cry all of a sudden. He was cold and sticky, his muscles ached and while they were out, they happened to run into a succubus who saw them as a threat first and had thrown John through a shop window. 

The young agent glared at the demon, spinning on his heel, and leaving the room without a word to anyone else. Everyone just stared after him, Liz quietly sympathetic while everyone looked on in downright confusion. 

Abe decided to enlighten them all, walking into the room with an expression that could have been a frown on anyone else, “Red. Stop being difficult and just ask him to stay. He is having a rather hard time today thanks to you.” The demon had the decency to look guilty when Liz whipped around to deliver her own glare, the look in her eyes silently promising pain if he did not do something to fix this. 

Hellboy raised his hands in a placating gesture, standing from his chair and going to find his liaison. He really had not meant for things to get so out of hand. It was supposed to be just a few minor inconveniences that would tire John out enough to keep him in the bureau for another day. Obviously, it failed spectacularly, and John had ended up hurt, uncomfortable and tired, which really was not a good look on him. 

John was in the room that every agent got assigned, standing under his shower head, and staring at the wall ahead of him. The water was lukewarm, the temperature doing absolutely no favours for his aching muscles and the litany of cuts decorating his side and back. He sighed, tilting his head back momentarily before jerking it forward at the loud banging on his door. 

He quickly shut the shower off, grabbing a towel and slinging it around his hips as he tried to get to his door before whoever was there punched the door down. He swung it open, standing just far enough away that the next swing of a stone fist missed both his door and his face.

Hellboy recovered quickly, dragging his hand down his face as he spoke, “Listen scout. I really didn’t mean for ya to get hurt or anything. I was just tryin’-” The demon cut himself of, his hand resting on the bottom half of his face while he stared down at the half naked, deliciously wet agent in front of him. The smattering of bruises and cuts did nothing to take away from the allure of creamy skin, the water dripping from his brown hair tracing lines along his skin that Hellboy was avidly following with his eyes. 

John cleared his throat, a red tinge dusting his cheeks as his charge did nothing but stare for a few more seconds before snapping out of his daze, “Uh… Right. I was sayin’ that you weren’t meant to get hurt. But I uh… Was sort of hopin’ you’d stay tonight. Well for Christmas. In the bureau. With us. Me.” Hellboy was still tracing the lines of water with his eyes, desperately wishing that it was his tongue tracing those trails instead. 

John opened his mouth, about to speak before a strangled noise escaped Hellboy’s throat, his arms suddenly shooting up to his ever present trench coat (that was thankfully clean for once) and pulling it off before draping it over John’s shoulders.

“I can’t concentrate with you standin’ there all naked and wet. At least put some clothes on Scout.” A snort involuntarily escaped John’s mouth as he pulled the trench coat around him a bit more, relishing in the warmth that radiated off of it

“I would if you hadn’t tampered with my stuff today.” Hellboy shrugged slightly, running his flesh hand over the stumps of his horns in a gesture of nervousness.

“You don’t know that. You weren’t there.” The familiar words brought a smile to both of their faces. Hellboy vaguely gestured toward his room, his eyes darting this way and that as he avoided the young agent’s eyes. 

“So, would you?” Myers stared at him, acting as if he were thinking the decision over when in reality, he had decided the second Hellboy had asked. A slow smile worked its way across his face as he nodded, hiding his goofy smile behind the collar of Hellboy’s trench coat as he spoke. 

“Sure. As long as you let me borrow some clothes because I highly doubt you know where you’ve put mine.” The big demon nodded, not bothering to deign that statement with a response before turning and walking away, his steps much slower to accommodate the smaller man that was walking beside him in nothing but his trench coat and a towel. 

~bleh~de~bleh~

The two had settled onto Hellboy’s bed, John now dressed in a shirt that was much too big for him and a pair of boxers that looked suspiciously like his favourite pair that he had lost a week ago. When asked about it though Red did nothing more than shrug and continue watching Jim Carrey’s The Grinch. 

They had been lying in the bed for about half an hour before Hellboy’s tail suddenly dropped a small box into the agent’s lap, nudging it closer before settling over his thighs and curling around his left one. John stared at the small box for a second before hesitantly picking it up, glancing at Hellboy every couple seconds as if it were about to explode on him. But the demon’s gaze was fixed upon his TV, never once looking away despite the nervous twitching of his tail. 

The agent finally opened it, pulling the lid off the box slowly. His mouth dropped at what was inside, his eyes snapping up to the demon next to him who was already staring back at him with a nervousness that was rarely seen. He looked back down, marvelling at the watch inside. It was quite pretty, the watch face showing the gears that made it work instead of the usual blank face with lines. The strap was a dark leather, soft enough to not irritate the skin but still sturdy. When he flipped it over there was a symbol of some sort engraved on the back, swirling along the silver plating.

“It’s something to protect you. Because I can’t leave you alone for more than a minute without you running into trouble.” The statement was accompanied with a quiet chuckle from both men, the younger one eagerly securing it around his wrist before holding it out in front of him, admiring it with a wide smile adorning his features.

“How does it look?” Red laughed, butting the side of John’s head with his forehead softly.

“You look good.” The young agent turned his head slightly, planting a chaste kiss on Hellboy’s cheek before snuggling into his side.

“Thank you. I feel bad though since I didn’t bring your present with me. It’s still at my apartment.” Hellboy shrugged, completely satisfied with how the evening turned out, as he slouched down a small bit, allowing John to pillow his head on his chest.

“’S fine. I’m happy with having you as my present.” The smaller man snorted, ignoring the blush staining his cheeks as he slapped the demon in the chest.

“Shut up. How about I take you out for pancakes and coffee for breakfast to make it up to you.” Hellboy hummed, running his flesh hand through soft, brunet locks as he leant down to press a kiss against the crown of his liaison’s head.

“Sounds good Myers. Merry Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim Carrey's The Grinch is the most superior christmas movie ever and you are delusional if you think otherwise. (Unless it's that Netflix movie Klaus then respect for that because I love that movie just as much)
> 
> I was an idiot and didn't post this that first day of December so now I'm a day behind...


	2. Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Cirilla gets dropped off. Jaskier and Yennefer banter. Geralt surprises Jask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't read over any of this so I'm pretty sure my tenses are all over the place and my grammar and punctuation is shite so apologies in adavanced.

A loud banging brought Geralt out of his sleep, his head jerking up as his arm instinctually tightened around the body that was nestled up against his own. When another series of loud bangs echoed throughout the small apartment the body groaned, shifting slightly only to hit him in the chest.

“Go get the door…” Geralt grunted, shoving the body slightly away in order to pull some pants on before making his way to the door. He threw it open, squinting at the brightness of the hallway lights before blinking several times to get his vision to adjust. Yennefer stood there, hands on her hips while Cirilla stood in front of her, the latter looking much more excited than her mother.

“Dad!” Geralt grunted when she threw herself at him, barely allowing him the time to hug her back before she was darting around him to get to the newcomer that had just waddled in from the bedroom.

“Jaskier!” Said man smiled tiredly at the ball of joy, hugging her tightly with a quiet greeting. 

“Hello lovely. How’ve you been?” Ciri smiled brightly at him, shrugging her shoulders slightly as she spoke.

“Good. Mum bought me a guitar for Christmas so I was hoping you could teach me some things?” Jaskier nodded eagerly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and steering her toward the front door so he could greet Yennefer.

“Hello witch. How’s the shop treatin’ ya?” Yen snorted, rolling her eyes in exasperation as she fell into their well-practiced banter with ease. 

“Not bad bard. How is it dealing with the monster?” Laughter bubbled out of Jaskier before he could stop himself, the blush adorning Geralt’s ears making him laugh harder while Cirilla looked between them in bemusement. 

“I’m just gonna go set my room up.” The adults nodded at her, smiling as she took off with a skip in her step and bags in her hands. Yennefer shook her head fondly, looking pointedly at Geralt as she gave her usual rules that Jaskier now knew off by heart. 

“I’ll be back next weekend to pick her up. No innuendos,” Yennefer looked pointedly at Jaskier who shrugged his shoulders with a shit eating grin, “If you’re going to fuck do it quietly and don’t feed her too much junk food. She only just over the last time she got sick from it so I don’t want her calling me and crying on the phone because her father is an incompetent idiot.” 

Jask laughed like he always did, bringing the slightly taller woman (she’s wearing heels today) into a hug, “I’ll keep him in check. Merry Christmas Yen, have fun with your toys.” The young man left the two to chat a bit, making his way to the kitchen to cook up something simple for breakfast. 

Geralt turned back to his ex-wife, huffing at the fond look she was shooting at their bard’s back, “Merry Christmas Yen. See you in a week.” Said woman nodded back before turning on her heel, clicking her way back down the corridor as Geralt closed the door.

He made his way toward the kitchen, noting that Cirilla was already sat at the kitchen counter, strumming out a random tune on her guitar as Jaskier nodded along, watching the eggs in the pan to make sure they did not burn. He had not noticed before but Jask was dressed in nothing more than one of the older man’s shirts, the hem just covering the bite marks that Geralt had left on his thighs the previous evening. 

He made his way behind his smaller lover, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his head on the narrow shoulder, “Presents after breakfast?” Cirilla’s head snapped up from her playing, a wide smile splitting her features as she answered with a rather loud yell of ‘yes’. 

The two men laughed at her, Jaskier nodding enthusiastically as he flips the omelette in the pan a final time before serving it up, “Sounds like a plan.”

~bleh~bleh~bleh~

The small family were sat on the couches, their shitty little Christmas tree sitting in the centre of the coffee table with five gifts surrounding it. Three of them were for Cirilla from Geralt’s brothers (Coën, Lambert and Eskel) and the last two were for Geralt and Jaskier. Ciri opened hers first, an excited squeal escaping her with every present she opened. Lambert got her a box of guitar picks, each one more obscure in design than the last. Eskel got her a beginner’s book for guitar players and Coën got her ukulele. Jaskier glared at that last one, knowing that Coën bought the gift for Ciri just to spite him because the older man knew how much Jask hated the tiny things. 

Geralt was the next one to open his present, something that everyone had chipped in to buy because the man was so difficult when it came to trying to find a gift for him. He carefully unwrapped it, pulling the lid off the box and letting out a small chuckle at the gift. It was a photo of his family. Ciri was front and centre, pulling a massive smile while everyone else behind her pulled stupid faces and poses. Vesemir was the only one that was not doing something stupid and was instead caught mid-laugh. The white-haired man pulled his lover close, kissing the side of his head before gesturing for Ciri to come over so he could sit her in his lap and hug her close. 

Jaskier finally got to his gift, unwrapping it with his usual vigour before stopping abruptly at the velvet box that now sat in his hands. He looks up at Geralt, noting that carefully neutral look on the man’s face as he silently stares back. The brunet slowly turns back to the box, opening it carefully. A gasp escapes his lips, the backs of his eyes stinging with a familiar sensation as tears well up. 

It’s simple, like everything Geralt does and yet Jaskier loves it. Loves him and all his stupid awkwardness and silent brooding. He looks up when there’s movement out of the corner of his eye, another wave of tears overcoming him as he realises that Geralt is down on one knee in front of him, nervously looking up at him in silent question as Jaskier sits there on the verge of breaking down over this simple proposal. 

He nods anyway, a wet laugh escaping him as Geralt gives him a relieved and fond look, taking the ring from the box and slipping it onto his ring finger. The silver band glints in the late morning light that streams into their apartment, casting Geralt’s head in an almost ethereal glow and making Jaskier feel as if he’s dreaming up the whole situation. 

He’s pulled out of those thoughts when Cirilla suddenly crashes into his side, making him rock slightly before he regains his balance with a loud laugh. He pulls her into his lap, holding his hand out in front of them to show her the ring, “You like it?” The little girl nods, giggling as she gives a thumbs up to her father.

“Dad says it can protect you from monsters because it’s made of silver.” Jask nods, smiling fondly as his Witcher rubs the back of his neck in an almost shy manner.

“I bet it does. Wanna watch a movie princess?” Ciri nods, clambering over Jaskier’s legs to get the remote and flick the TV onto Netflix as Geralt sits himself next to his fiancé. The three settle into the couch, blanket draped over them and Cirilla nestled into Jaskier’s left side as he snuggles into Geralt’s right side. Klaus begins to play, and the bard smiles fondly as he remembers that he had compared Geralt to Klaus the last time they had watched it. The Witcher could not see the similarities but Jask and Ciri could and they both relished in the idea of it. 

Geralt leant down, nuzzling the side of his bard’s head before pressing a soft kiss on his temple, “Merry Christmas… Love you.” 

Jaskier smiled up at him, craning his neck to press a kiss against his lips as he mumbled back, “Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still a day behind but I'll catch up...eventually.


	3. Ezio Auditore da Firenze x Desmond Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team decorates Monteriggioni. Ezio finds out about a classic tradtion. He decides to take advantage of this tradition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline might be a bit fucked (as are my past and present tenses) but Ezio traveled to Desmond's time and arrived like a month or two before Desmond dies.

“What are you doing Desmond?” Said man looked under his arm, spotting the curious eyes that hid behind that ever-present hood before turning back to his task.

“I’m hanging Christmas decorations. Do you not do that in your time?” Desmond finished taping up the tinsel, hopping down from his chair in order to get a better look at the display. It was rather bland honestly but compared to the last twenty-four Christmases he had gone through it was pretty good. 

They did not have a tree, mainly because Shaun was a stingy bastard, but they had some crappy tinsel, cheap baubles and a few sprigs of mistletoe decorating the front entrance of Monteriggioni. The tinsel was running up the banisters and hanging from the balconies while the baubles hung off of broken bits of banisters and the team’s equipment. Desmond was not sure where the mistletoe sprigs were since Rebecca had decided to hang them herself. Shaun and Lucy had gone off to buy some food for everyone while they took a short reprieve from the whole saving the world business. 

The other man in the room was sitting on the steps when Desmond turned toward him, his keen eyes studying the front entrance of his once family home. It was still a bit weird to be seeing him in the flesh like this, the young assassin being too used to the mans ghostly apparitions walking through the walls and then disappearing into thin air. 

Slowly he shook his head, his eyes now settled on Desmond as he spoke in his low baritone, “We did not. Never had the time for it when we were building the brotherhood.” Desmond nodded in understanding, taking a seat next to his ancestor with a worn-out groan escaping his lips. His eyes flicked over to a familiar ghost jumping over the rails of the upper floor, dropping to the floor below before evaporating the second it hit the floor. The ex-bartender snorted as the afterimage brought up the memory of how they had first found Ezio in this time. Well… how Ezio had found them in this time. 

Ezio had walked into a room and Desmond had thought it was just another ghost and had ignored him completely. That was until he had turned around and the older man was right there with a hidden blade against his throat, making him yelp and drop the cup in his hand. It was rather interesting explaining everything to him and having him take everything in stride, but the group decided that they had better things to worry about. 

Skip forward a few months and you found the group preparing for Christmas two weeks before the actual date while making sure Ezio did not get himself into too much trouble. He had done fine so far, mainly just sticking to Desmond’s side and only taking off when his descendent was in the animus. 

A familiar chuckle pulled Desmond out of his thoughts, something swinging into his field of vision for a second before it was gone again, making the young man tilt his head back in order to locate it. What he found brought a mix of confusion and amusement to the ex-bartender’s face, his brow raising as he looked up at a smirking Rebecca, “What are you doing?”

Her smirk just widened as she pulled her hands from behind her back, holding the mistletoe between her fingers and over Desmond’s and Ezio’s heads, “You know tradition Des.” The woman practically sung the words, the glee in her eyes clear as Desmond realise just what she was up to. 

The young assassin cursed their drunken nights together, embarrassment overtaking him as he remembered his drunken confession about his feelings toward his previously dead ancestor. He prayed to a god he did not believe in that Ezio would not ask what she was talking about but of course, luck was never on his side. 

“What is this tradition?” Heat ran along Desmond’s cheeks and ears as he cleared his throat a couple times, looking anywhere but the man beside him. 

“It’s uh… There’s a tradition where if two people get caught under a mistletoe,” Desmond pointed to the sprig that was still hanging from Rebecca’s fingers, “They have to uh… kiss.” The young man still was not looking at his ancestor, so he missed the delighted smile that crossed the older man’s face as he rambled on.

“It’s really stupid and we don’t have to do anything if-” The rest of his sentence cut off when fingers turned his face to the right, warm lips covering his own, and stealing his breath away. A breathy moan escaped him when a sinfully skilled tongue delved past his lips and flicked against the roof of his mouth. 

The young man tried to pull away but Ezio was not having it, leaning forward so their lips did not part at all and pushing Desmond up against the banister. The older man finally pulled back slightly so they could catch their breath, a devilish smirk painted on his face as he thumbed at Desmond’s lower lip.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that Tesoro. You are… quite the temptation.” The words brought a fiery blush to Desmond’s face, his eyes glancing to the side only to find the woman who had started this was no longer there, probably having disappeared the second it had started. 

Ezio huffed at his descendant’s shy demeanour, pressing one last sweet kiss against his lips before pulling back, fighting the urge to press another one against them. Now that he had done it, and Desmond had showed anything but rejection toward the action, the older Assassin was going to take every chance he could get to kiss the man stupid. 

~bleh~bleh~bleh~

Shaun walked into their little makeshift kitchen, his mind distracted as he gazed down at the tablet in his hand and tried to decipher the text he was studying. He only looked up when he heard the clatter of silverware being dropped, immediately groaning, and dropping his head back at the horribly familiar sight in front of him. 

Ezio had Desmond up on the counter, hands rucked up under the younger man’s hoodie while he sucked his face off. Shaun looked above them and found another sprig of mistletoe above them, sighing exasperatedly as he turned on his heel and made his way out of the room, mumbling to himself all the while.

When he made it back to the room that they had set up shop in his eyes immediately zoned in on Rebecca, his gaze promising bloody murder as he pointed an accusing finger at her, “How many times am I going to have to walk in on them basically fucking on every surface in this place before you take them all down Rebecca?” 

Said woman furrowed her brow in faux confusion, tilting her head for the added effect of ‘I’m-innocent-and-have-no-idea-of-what-you’re-talking-about’. Shaun’s eyes narrowed further when she decided to play further confusion by saying, “What are you talking about? They haven’t even kissed yet.” 

When the tall man looked over to Lucy, she just shrugged her shoulders, silently vowing to never touch a surface without wiping it down first with disinfectant. Shaun ran his hands through his hair, fighting the urge to scream as a barely muffled moan floated in from the other room. He was going to kill whoever invented that stupid mistletoe tradition. 

~bleh~de~bleh~

Desmond panted as he rested his head against the wall behind him, his ancestor continuing the pepper kisses down his throat and across his shoulders as his hands rubbed soothingly at his lower back, “Apologies mio caro. I did not expect your friend to suddenly walk in while I was upholding this tradition of yours.” 

The young man snorted, running his fingers through Ezio’s hair as he looked down at him with an incredulous stare, “Nowhere in that tradition does it say, ‘fuck on whatever surface is available’.” The older assassin smiled up at his young lover, kissing him softly before pulling back enough to pull his own pants up.

“Then we have made our own tradition out of them and we shall not break it. It would be a disappointment to not uphold something so special.” The statement pulled a laugh from Desmond, his heart swelling with a stupid sort of fondness for the man in front of him. He hopped down from the counter, stumbling only slightly before pulling his pants back on and tugging his hoodie back into place. 

Ezio pressed one last kiss to his lips before taking his hand and leading them to the room that everyone else was in, the burning heat on the young man’s face doing nothing to take away from his giddy smile. Desmond had to remember to get something extra nice for Rebecca for when Christmas rolled around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so behind on updates because I've been going to sleep insanely early and nighttime is when I thrive with ideas. I'm gonna catch up because I am determined to do this thing.
> 
> Also if you have any requests hit me up. I've only got like 15 ideas for 9 pairings and I need to make 31 chapters.


	4. Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad x Desmond Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altaïr keeps giving gifts to Desmond. Desmond is confused. He is determined to get the answer out of the man.

“For you.” The statement was accompanied with a small, wrapped package being dropped onto Desmond’s lap, the weight of it causing a soft grunt to escape the young man before he looked up at his ancestor in confusion.

“What’s the occasion?” Altaïr said nothing, his eyes flicking between the box and Desmond in silent anticipation. The younger man only waited another moment before shrugging, carefully pulling the blue with white zig zag’s wrapping paper away. Desmond’s brow furrowed as he stared down at the book in hands, glancing at the elder man as he read aloud.

“The Age of Assassin’s?” Altaïr nodded once, a look of something akin to hope flashing in his eyes for a brief moment as he stared down at his hands.

“Looked interesting. Thought you might like it,” Desmond opened his mouth, wondering if Altaïr realised that it was a story book, before snapping it closed. He did not have the heart to tell the man that the book was not actually about proper assassins. The young man sighed softly before offering a bright smile, holding the book up as a silent sort of thanks as he spoke.

“Thank you Altaïr. It’s a lovely gift, though I still don’t know why you gave this to me out of nowhere.” His ancestor grunted, promptly standing from his chair, and making his way out of the room, leaving Desmond to stare confusedly at the spot across from him. What had gotten into the man?

**~bleh~bleh~bleh~**

Desmond was sitting on baby 2.0, sipping a mug of coffee absentmindedly as he tried to sort the memories he had just lived through, his hand not holding the mug twitching every few seconds as if trying to absently flick his hidden blade in and out.

The ex-bartender was pulled out of his thoughts as something suddenly came flying at him, the pure instincts of three different assassin’s bringing his hand up and catching it before he had even fully registered it properly. He blinked a couple times, pulling the item down and noting that it was a bag of some sorts that clinked with every little movement.

Desmond tilted his head slightly, placing his mug carefully down on the floor – because Rebecca would murder him if she saw any stain on her baby – before opening the bag up. Inside was a set of throwing knives, all of them fairly simple in design but rather study and well balanced when he picked them up.

He looked up at the doorway across from him, noting the way Altaïr seemed to be watching him with the same anticipation as yesterday. Confusion ran rampant in Desmond’s mind, his brain pulling up every single interaction they had had throughout the last few months since the older man’s arrival in their time.

When he came up empty with why Altaïr would be giving him gifts all of a sudden, he opened his mouth to, once again, ask what the occasion was. He barely got to breathe before the mentor was making another swift departure without a single glance backward.

Desmond huffed, frustration welling up and mixing badly with the want to know just what his ancestor was up to this time. Silently, the young man promised himself that he would find out just what was going on, even if it resulted in another sparring match that would ultimately leave him on his ass.

**~bleh~deh~bleh~**

Desmond fell flat on his ass once again, ragged pants escaping his mouth as he stared up at the smug smirk adorning his ancestor’s face. The young man groaned dramatically as Altaïr took on a fighting stance once again, falling flat on his back while waving a dismissive hand in Altaïr’s general direction.

“Just- Give me a minute. This is the fourth round in a row that I’ve ended up on the floor.” The elder man snorted, shaking his head in fond amusement as he made his way off to the side of the training mats that formed a sort of haphazard ring. Desmond ignored him for the moment, closing his eyes and trying to get his breathing back under control.

All of his breath suddenly left him as something heavy landed on his abdomen, causing him to curl inwards slightly, “What the fuck?” Desmond opened his eyes, staring at the box that was now resting half on his side and half on the floor. He sat up, pulling the box into his lap properly before looking up at Altaïr, noting the way he stared intently down at his bare feet.

Desmond sighed softly, putting the box to the wayside before making his way over to the slightly taller man. The young assassin stopped in front of Altaïr, staring at him for a moment before finally speaking up, “Altaïr… Why have you been giving me presents for the last few days? I’m not saying I don’t appreciate them, because I do and I love them, but why?” 

Altaïr did not answer at first, refusing to make eye contact for a moment before looking at Desmond determinedly. The young man opened his mouth to ask again but was cut off as a dry, yet soft, pair of lips covered his own.

Neither man moved for a moment, Desmond still reeling from shock and Altaïr dying silently from embarrassment at his brash actions. The older of the two began to slowly pull away, readying himself for some sort of physical outlash but was taken aback when Desmond surged up, grabbing the back of his neck to keep him from going anywhere.

The two fell into a steady rhythm, Altaïr having to slow Desmond down every so often as the young assassin grew a little too eager in his ministrations. They pulled apart slowly, resting their foreheads against one another with soft smiles adorning both their faces.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’ve been giving me presents.” Altaïr snorted softly, kissing the side of his descendants’ mouth before answering.

“It is December yes?” Desmond nodded, a furrow between his brows, “And when you started to hang decorations this month you told me it was for a holiday named Christmas.” Desmond nodded again, starting to see where Altaïr was heading with this.

“Well, you said that during Christmas people gave gifts to their family and loved ones.”

“Ah. Right,” Desmond supressed a laugh, instead shaking his head with fondness as he smiled at the older man, “Altaïr, Christmas is a specific day of December, not every single one. It’s on the twenty-fifth.”

Altaïr ducked his head, a light shade of red dusting his cheeks as he grumbled, “Well you didn’t say that. You just said that this month was Christmas.” The ex-bartender laughed this time, pulling his ancestor’s face up to kiss him softly.

“Fair point, I should have explained that better. But I didn’t think you would get me gifts either.” The older man continued grumbling, pulling his descendant in, and tucking his face against the shorter man’s neck.

“Of course, I would get you gifts.” Altaïr sounded almost offended as he said that and Desmond could not help but laugh again, kissing the side of his ancestor’s head while mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’.

The two stood together, relishing in the presence of one another before Altaïr pulled back, jerking his chin toward the box that Desmond had abandoned on the training mats, “Go open your gift.” The younger man nodded, walking over, and sitting himself next to it as Altaïr sat across from himself.

This time round Desmond could not help but feel that familiar old excitement that he would only ever get on Christmas mornings when he walked into bad weather. His boss was kind enough to get him something small every year, just as a way of saying thanks.

He pulled the lid of the box off, frowning when faced with a solid white fabric. He pulled it up, his frown morphing into a smile as he realised it was a white hoodie, similar to his own one but lighter and a tad bit bigger. Desmond smiled at Altaïr, launching himself forward and hugging the man around his neck before kissing him deeply.

“Thank you.” Altaïr gave his own smile, nuzzling the side of his neck as he hugged Desmond close.

“Merry Christmas _habibi._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so behind in updates but we'll get there... eventually.


	5. Gregory House x Robert Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House shows up out of nowhere. Chase is tired and very Australian. House wins a bet. It's a new step in their relationship.

The loud and incessant knocking against his front door roused Chase out of his sleep, his mind slowly coming to with a sense of confusion as he popped his head out from under his blankets. It was stupidly cold in his tiny flat and he despised it with every bone in his body, despite living in Sydney and Melbourne for years, it never got this cold down there in the winter.

When the incessant knocking did not cease Chase groaned tiredly, getting up while keeping his blanket firmly around his shoulders, and making his way to the front door. He threw it open, blinking tiredly at the man on the other side who was still holding his cane in the air.

“Mate… It’s the middle of the night. What the fuck are you doing here?” House raised an eyebrow at the other man, slightly thrown at the fact that he had sworn at him.

“Well don’t let me be the asshole that keeps you from your beauty sleep, just let me in.” Chase did not bother to deem that with a reply, tugging the blanket tighter around him and shuffling his way into the living room. He flopped down onto one end of the couch, listening to the familiar gait of his boss as the man closed the door and came inside, sitting down at the other end of the couch after a moment of hesitation.

The two sat in silence for a while, Chase fighting to not fall asleep right there and House seemingly lost in his own world of thought. The silence dragged on before the older man was the one to break it, glancing at the Australian out the corner of his eye as he spoke.

“So, how’s your Christmas going so far?” Chase gave a tired chuckle, shaking his head with a noncommittal shrug as he mumbled out a response.

“Got out of bed in the arvo, dropped by the servo and got some donuts to eat. I forgot the Maccas over here doesn’t do the all-day brekkie thing, so I made do.” House was staring at his employee with the most confused expression Chase had ever seen on the man, causing him to give a genuine laugh in response.

“I thought you British were the ones who made the English language. How could you make such little sense?” That caused the younger man to snort, rolling his eyes slightly with a quiet remark of, ‘Australian’ before they descended into silence once more.

After Chase’s head fell off his palm for the third time he decided to go back to bed, standing up and figuring his boss could either sort himself out or leave if he so wished, “If you’re not going to do anything I’m going back to bed. There’s blankets and pillows out in the hallway closet if you decide to stay-” Chase was cut off by a pair of chapped lips, his eyes widening for a brief moment before slipping shut, his own lips moving hesitantly in response.

The kiss was over just as suddenly as it began, House huffing out a laugh against his lips as he spoke quietly in the space between them, “Wilson owes me thirty dollars now.” Chase’s eyes snapped open, anger and frustration quickly rearing up as he pushed away from his boss, and secret long-time crush.

“Seriously House? You can’t just walk into my home in the middle of the night and kiss me just so you can win a bet!” Despite the late hour the younger doctor found himself struggling to keep his voice down, glaring harshly at the other man who only rolled his eyes in response to the outburst.

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist princess. The bet with Wilson is just a bonus. Besides,” House limped closer, wrapping his arm around the slightly shorter man’s waist and pulling him close, “You can’t expect me to break a classic tradition, can you?”

Chase blinked, noticing the movement of something out of the corner of his eye and flicking his gaze toward it. His mouth dropped open slightly as he noted that at some point, House had taped a piece of mistletoe to the end of his cane and was now holding it over their heads.

He turned back to his boss, protests dying on his tongue as the older man pulled him into another kiss, this one much longer but just as surprising and addicting as the first one. Chase pulled away with a gasp, giving a hesitant smile as he rested his hands-on House’s shoulders, “You’re a drongo you know that?”

The elder of the two snorted, falling back on the couch and pulling his employee down to sit next to him, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat when the Australian wrapped the blanket around both of them and cuddled up to him, “I swear you just make these words up to sound foreign.” Chase hummed his amusement, resting his head on House’s chest and just basking in the fact that he was allowed to be this close to the man he had been pining over for the last few months.

House grabbed the remote, flicking the TV on and over to one of his soap dramas that were having reruns that day. Chase hated them but he’d gladly put up with it if House kept running his hand up and down his arm absentmindedly.

The two sat in silence, content to not talk about what any of this would mean for their futures for the moment. When Chase started to nod off again House nudged him awake, waiting until the blond looked up at him before gesturing down the hall with a nod of his head, “You should go to bed. I’ll leave after this episode.”

Chase did not move for a second, his brain slowly catching up with the statement before he shook his head in denial, “Come to bed with me… It’s too late and it’s cold.” If House were an honest man he would admit to swooning at the sight of a tired, pouty Chase asking him to come share his bed, but since he’s not he merely laughed, shaking his head as he threw out the first words that came to mind.

“You that desperate to get me in your bed?” Chase did not reply at first, staring the older man down before sitting up, swinging his leg over House’s thighs, and bringing their faces close together. He made sure to not rest any of his weight on the man’s bad leg, hovering over his lap as he left a hair breadth of space between their mouths.

“I wouldn’t say I was that desperate. But you, being the prick that you are, are probably going to just laugh everything I try to say to you off. So instead, I’m going to do this…” Chase closed the gap between them delving his tongue inside the other man’s mouth with a small moan before pulling back again, smirking down at his boss with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Will you come to bed with me now?” House rest his hands on the younger man’s hips, tilting his head to the side with a small smile.

“Are you trying to bribe me to come to bed with you with… kisses?” Chase snorted, rolling his eyes before placing another kiss on the corner of his mouth, getting out of the older man’s lap and wrapping the blanket around himself.

“Good night House.” The young Australian left, leaving the older man to his soap opera which was already pretty much over.

House watched the images listlessly, his mind lingering on a pretty mouth and soft golden hair. His head dropped onto the back of the couch, a soft sigh escaping him. He turned the TV off, getting up and blindly making his way in the direction Chase had gone, hoping the man did not have random tables in his hallway like some people did.

Chase was lying in his bed, staring blankly at the wall as his mind went over the events of the evening. He would never admit it but internally he was freaking out like a high school kid with a crush, granted he was not too far off with that description. He was pulled from his thoughts when a familiar gait meandered into his room, lingering in the doorway for a moment before walking over to where Chase was.

House sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling his socks and jeans off as he glanced at the young man from the corner of his eye, “Move over. I’m not walking all the way to the other side of your bed.” Chase huffed a laugh, shuffling backwards and pulling the blankets back. Once House was down to his boxers he lay down, getting under the blankets and pulling the blond close to his chest.

After a bit of shuffling the two settled down, House’s head buried in Chase’s hair and the latter’s buried in the elder’s chest. They did not talk at first, too content to try and ruin the moment with words. House was, once again, the one to break the silence between them.

“Night Chase.” The younger man did not reply with words, humming softly before slipping into a dreamless sleep, House following suit a moment later. If the two happened to show up to work several hours late, wearing each other’s coats the next day then nobody pointed it out, either too involved in their own worlds or passing it off as one of House’s usual antics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am astronomically behind in updates, but nobody's keeping count so meh.


	6. Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier discovers a new thing. Geralt is worried. Jaskier gets a little carried away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short, mainly dialogue based, enjoy!

“Jaskier… What are you doing?”

“Geralt! Well, while I was off traversing the continent on my own, I came across this peculiar little town. Lovely people there but they may have been a little on the crazy side, they all followed this man in a red a suit and he was like a god to them.”

“Jaskier… Have you been eating strange herbs again?”

“No Geralt, I’m offended you would assume that of me. Anyway! They had a fun little name for this particular day of the year, and they call it Christmas. I have no clue as to what it’s for but the traditions they described sounded like an absolute delight so I thought we could do it here as well.”

“Jaskier those are blackthorns. Why are you hanging them in the doorway?”

“Well, the people called it mistletoe and apparently one of the traditions is this-”

Jaskier pulled Geralt into a kiss, swiping his tongue along the slightly larger man’s lower lip before pulling away with a bright smile, promptly turning away and continuing his rambling once again.

“They also said that giving gifts was part of the day, something to show your friends and family that you appreciate them and love them.”

“Jaskier what-” The bard shoved a wrapped box into his hands, smiling at him and gesturing at it before turning and picking up three other boxes that were in his room.

“That’s for you and these are for Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir. I already told them, and they decided to do the ‘Christmas feast’.”

The bard pranced down the hallway, causing his Witcher to watch after him with a dumbfounded look. Geralt shook his head, finally deciding to unwrap his gift just to put the whole kissing ordeal on the back burner for the moment.

He pulled the soft cloth back, an affectionate smile splitting his features as he realised that the bard had gotten him a small dagger. Not very effective in a proper fight but very pretty and sturdy enough to carve meats.

Geralt tossed it between his hands a couple times, twirling it before putting it in his belt, taking off to find his bard before the man accidentally poisoned someone with his newfound ‘Christmas day’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did this because I got Witcher III on Switch for Christmas and I wanted to do something for today. So! Merry Christmas, I hope you all enjoyed your day even if you don't celebrate the holiday and I hope you're able to round the year out on a good note.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to do one of these for the longest time and now I've finally got the chance to do it. So I hope you have fun as well.


End file.
